


until we were just bone

by sarahyyy



Series: Functional Heartburn [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, the grey's au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1972608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sits there quietly until he hears footsteps, and feels someone sit down next to him. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that it’s Enjolras; it can’t be anyone else, everyone else knows to leave him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	until we were just bone

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this entire series is just going to be the many ways in which Enjolras Does Not Kiss Grantaire for now.

He walks out. 

He walks out because it’s getting hard to breathe, and he thought he was getting better at this whole compartmentalisation thing, but he apparently isn’t, because his fourteen year old patient is dying on the table because there isn’t anything they can do, and _he can’t breathe_.

He walks out, ignores everyone who attempts to say anything to him on his way, keeps walking, moves automatically to the stairwell, taking fast steps down, and this is familiar and easy and comforting the way the surgery should’ve been but wasn’t. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s reached the last step and he’s down at the basement, and then he slides down against the wall, closes his eyes, and breathes.

He sits there quietly until he hears footsteps, and feels someone sit down next to him. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that it’s Enjolras; it can’t be anyone else, everyone else knows to leave him alone. He waits for Enjolras to say something, to ask the obvious _what happened?_ or _are you okay?_ but Enjolras just sits there next to him quietly, breathing in sync with him until he opens his eyes. 

“I just got out from a craniotomy,” Enjolras says. “There was a subdural haematoma in my patient’s brain, and we tried drilling Burr holes to drain the clot, but then Combeferre noticed that-”

Grantaire lets out a slow exhale, lets Enjolras’ voice wash over him, lets himself relax to the way Enjolras is slowly getting more enthusiastic, the way he always does when he’s talking about one of his surgeries. He closes his eyes again, and in a moment of weakness, leans his head against Enjolras’ shoulder. 

Enjolras doesn’t falter, just keeps on talking about how he had to fight Bahorel - _“Not physically, of course; I’m not stupid.”_ \- for the OR, and how Combeferre lit up when he found a hemangioblastoma in the patient’s cerebellum. He talks about incisions and drills and brain matter until Grantaire lets out a snort at how ridiculous he is, getting all excited about a patient’s tumour.

“The procedure went fine,” Enjolras finishes. “The patient is in recovery and projected to regain his coordination with some physical therapy.” He turns to look at Grantaire. “Thoughts?”

Grantaire sighs and pulls away from Enjolras. “You don’t have to do this,” he tells Enjolras. “I’m fine.” 

Enjolras doesn’t say anything, but his look speaks volumes.

“I choked,” Grantaire ends up saying. “I was supposed to be putting everything I had in me into saving this boy’s life, and I choked. I had the scalpel in my hands, and I was looking into him, looking for a way to save his life, but there was too much bleeding, and I thought _it’s my fault it’s too late_ and I choked.”

Enjolras reaches out to grab Grantaire’s hand, squeezes it tightly, and says, “It happens to the best of us.” 

Grantaire shakes his head, lets out a laugh that is too bitter and too sad. “I was against discharging him,” he tells Enjolras. “But his father insisted on taking him home because we were getting no closer to diagnosing him. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent. I should’ve said something, should’ve done more. I knew he sick, and I let him go anyway. If he was in the hospital when it happened-” He clenches his hands tightly into fists. “He was _fourteen_ , Enjolras, and I killed him.”

When you’re a surgeon, there’re good days, and there are bad days. Grantaire always forgets that the bad days outnumber the good days, that they lose more lives than they save, that he sees more parents cry from bad news than the good. He always forgets that no matter how many patients he loses, it always feels as bad as the first. 

It doesn’t get easier, losing patients; you just don’t get used to it. 

“It’s not your fault,” Enjolras says gently. “He was discharged against medical advice. You were against it.”

“Not strongly enough,” Grantaire says bitterly. “I’m a shit doctor.”

“It’s not your fault,” Enjolras repeats, firmer this time. He grabs Grantaire by the shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes. “You’re a great doctor. I’ve seen you with the kids, you make them happy, you make their stay at the hospital less unpleasant. You take the time to talk to them, to tell them what’s going on and what you’re doing, and not every paediatrician does that. You care about your patients, and your patients all love you.” He trails his hands slowly up from Grantaire’s shoulders to cup his face, leans in closely and says quietly into the space between them, “You are a great doctor, and I’m not going to let you say otherwise.”

“Enjolras-”

“I know,” Enjolras says, and brushes his thumb over Grantaire’s cheek. “Kissing outside of sex is not allowed.” 

He doesn’t pull away from Grantaire, though, and Grantaire knows he should move, should ask Enjolras to move, but it’s been an all-around bad day for him, and Enjolras is close and warm, and he’s been sitting here, listening to Grantaire talk without judgement, and telling Grantaire that he’s a great doctor, and Grantaire just can’t do anything except to lean into his touch. 

It must be the right thing to do because Enjolras smiles when he does, lets his lips curl up softly the way he always does when he’s looking at Grantaire. It’s too much and not enough simultaneously, and Grantaire should look away, should look away and clear his head, but he doesn’t, just holds himself still as Enjolras leans in closer, until he’s close enough that Grantaire can feel the warmth of Enjolras’ breath and the phantom touch of Enjolras’ lips against his even though they are still apart. 

“I’m not kissing you,” Enjolras says softly. “This is allowed.”

It’s not, because Grantaire hadn’t just meant no kissing, he’d meant that he didn’t want them to be emotionally invested in each other, and this is crossing a line, Enjolras comforting him when he’s emotionally fragile is definitely crossing a line.

It’s not allowed, but God, Grantaire wants it. 

“Okay,” he whispers, even though he knows better. 

Enjolras smiles. He presses his thumb to Grantaire’s lips gently and then presses his lips to his thumb. Grantaire lets his eyelids flutter shut and thinks about the way he can almost feel Enjolras’ lips on his, thinks about how easy it would be to reach up and pull Enjolras’ hand away, thinks about how much he would hate himself if he did that. 

This is better. It’s not a kiss. It’s a Not Kiss. 

Grantaire drew a line; Enjolras is toeing by it, even though he doesn’t like it, and has no obligation to keep trying to change Grantaire’s mind. 

Enjolras is perfect, and he is Not Kissing Grantaire, and Grantaire wants him to so much he aches _everywhere_ , which is why he pulls away from Enjolras brusquely and says, “You should go. I would like to be alone for a little while.”

He doesn’t look at Enjolras as he stands up and starts making his way to the stairs. He pauses three steps up and turns back to say, “I’m here for you, Grantaire, whenever you are ready to accept that I am here and that I am not going anywhere.”

Grantaire closes his eyes and resolutely doesn’t think about Enjolras.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here on Tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


End file.
